At first my knee-jerk reaction was to let these words remain only in the black on white of an unpublished draft, let them fade into the archives, left unread, unspoken..
But this weekend, in my sadness, in our loss, I've found comfort through the experiences of other women who've walked this same road of miscarriage ... and this? It's been the elephant in the room of my mind for the past almost week as I've tried stepping around it.
And He moves me. He moves me from weakness to strength. So with caution to any pregnant mothers and those with very tender hearts to perhaps skip reading this one, I press the publish button for the prelude to what I wrote last Friday morning.
I should be on the floor with them, playing, enjoying, living.
But I am bleeding, being initiated into a secret club I didn't want to join.
Bleeding. The tinge of pink darkening to red, after not one, not two but three positive pregnancy tests.
I am supposed to be closing in, wrapping up this week of being newly blessed with child.
I am supposed to be heavy with new life in my womb instead of heavy with emotion.
I am supposed to be ...
right where I am. I resign again, whisper that God is God, and I am not.
And because I don't understand why
why, why, why
I throw myself into a tailspin, turning and turning and turning, kicking up dust and sputtering on it.
There is guilt mixed with grief.
There is thankfulness interwoven into guilt.
And then there is guilt bleeding back into grief.
Everything bleeding -- the lines of positive tests, my body, my mind, my heart.
I have two adorable little boys playing trucks infusing their play with a side story of Finding Nemo nearby.
And I am thankful that they are still at my feet, able to be scooped up into my arms for kisses and cuddles and giggles.
I circle back around to grief, wishing May 2012 could somehow still bring a new tiny baby born fresh from my body and into our arms, snuggling in for kisses and cuddles and giggles.
And then swoop back to thankfulness for two little boys
and around to guilt again after thanking God for gifting us with their sweet little lives ...
I have two adorable little boys playing trucks infusing their play with a side story of Finding Nemo, and I slip onto the floor next to them and cry out for Him to break me out of the rounds I'm circling.
Because right now, that's taking me nowhere fast; I need to go somewhere good even faster.
I make the slightest cry, and He hears.
So, slowly, gently, He moves me from spinning in the circles of a dusty, dirty roundabout of fear and sadness back to the paved road through His truth and the truth spoken by my husband and the words shared from a friend ... He moves me, layering salves over a wounded, heaven-homesick heart, to the next rest area on a journey where there is grief, yes, there is sadness, yes, but, too, there is both joy in the morning and joy in the midst of mourning.
"My soul clings to the dust;
give me life according to your word!
Make me understand the way of your precepts,
and I will mediate on your wondrous works.
My soul melts away for sorrow;
strengthen me according to your word."
Psalm 119: 25, 27, 28